


The Room Was Still

by dog_loving_goth



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Parent/Teacher Conferences, Pining, Slow Burn, Unsubtle Poetry Recital, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dog_loving_goth/pseuds/dog_loving_goth
Summary: It began as a parent/teacher conference.What it becomes is up to them.





	1. The Room Was Still

It had been too long of a day.

Between the accidental beheading of the class goldfish, and the repercussions of a stick sword fight on the playground, Hugo was ready to go home. But he’d scheduled a parent-teacher conference and now he was stuck with that commitment.

Not that home would have been any better. He was pointedly ignoring the ten –

_BZZT!_

–  eleven text messages from his husband, certain they would all be the same variation of **why aren’t u home yet?**

_BZZT!_

Face twisted in frustration, Hugo threw his phone into one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut. Twisting the ring on his finger, he heaved a heavy sigh at the clock. Things weren’t supposed to be like this.

“Mr. Vega?”

Hugo shot from his chair like he’d been struck by lightning. Standing tall, he extended his hand with a warm smile. “Ah! Yes, Mr. Bloodma..r..ch…” And then it finally registered just who exactly he was looking at.

He’d seen him last weekend at Joseph’s. Standing reservedly in the corner with Mary, the man had seemed more appropriately dressed for a costume party, not the lazy late summer heat of a neighborhood barbecue. They’d been introduced incredibly briefly, but all Hugo could remember now was the warmth of the man’s voice and the genuine thrill in his eyes when Hugo had complimented his Victorian garb.

“I-“ he started to apologize.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance once more. Please, do call me Damien.”

Hugo quietly marveled at Damien’s impeccable manners, wishing all his parent-teacher conferences started off this congenially. “It’s nice to see you again as well, Damien. Thank you for coming.” Hugo gestured to a chair he’d set up in front of his desk. “Won’t you sit down?”

“I do hope my son has not caused a terrible deal of trouble.” Damien began cautiously as he glided to his seat.

“To be honest, if it was just an isolated incident, I wouldn’t have even called you in.” Hugo began cleaning his glasses with the edge of his shirt. “But I’m starting to see some troubling patterns with Lucien. He’s already skipping class and the school year’s barely started.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo watched as a deep line of worry etched its way across Damien’s face. A twinge of sympathy pained his chest. Without thinking, he reached across and put his hand over Damien’s. “Are you all right?”  

“Ah…” Damien pulled away gently and Hugo immediately snapped back into his chair, trying desperately not to turn red with embarrassment.

“I am SO sorry.” Hugo fumbled out.

Damien merely afforded him a thankful smile. “There is no need for apologies. Your sympathy is appreciated.” He tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear. “My son has been troubled lately. By what, I do not know, but I am doing everything in my power to assist him. I…” he paused to clear his throat, his voice tinged with emotion. “I care for him very much. My greatest wish would be that he felt he could confide in me as before.”

Hugo smiled warmly at Damien. “I’m sure at some point he’ll realize what a great dad he’s got.”

“Do you have any children Mr. Vega?” Damien inquired.

“Please, call me Hugo.” They had been formal far too long. “And, yes. I do. A son, too.” He turned around a small wooden frame on his desk for Damien to see. “Ernest. He’s about three years younger than yours.”

“What a charming boy he looks to be.” Damien complimented, and Hugo couldn’t help but beam. “So I am not merely speaking to a teacher, but a fellow parent as well. I am quite glad. In the past, there have been… _differences_ betwixt some of Lucien’s teachers and myself regarding my parenting-“

“Was it Mr. Winebiddle? Because that man is a complete asshole to anyone who-“ Hugo caught himself, realizing he’d stood back up again; how hard his heart was beating; how _angry_ he was that anyone could doubt the man sitting before him.

And then realizing he’d just said the word _asshole_ to a man who spoke and dressed like someone from the most prim and proper era imaginable. Hugo wondered if he could just crawl under his desk and end this conference from there.

But then Damien _laughed_. Not a chuckle or giggle, but full on laughter. His face split into a grin as he stood up with Hugo. “ _YES!”_ he proclaimed. “That man was absolutely despicable!”

Hugo chuckled. “That’s a nicer way of putting it.” He gestured vaguely to the door, hoping to end this conversation before sticking his foot in his mouth again. “Well, I think this went better than most of my parent teacher conferences. I only swore once.”

Damien chuckled. “I highly doubt you are so uncouth.” He shook Hugo’s hand. “I am deeply sorry we had to resume our acquaintance in such a manner. Perhaps you would care to join me for tea some time?”

“That’s very kind of you, Damien, but I try not to socialize too much with my student’s parents. I don’t want…anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“Well, perhaps you will socialize with your neighbor, then?” Damien countered, smiling.

And now Hugo remembered. It hadn’t just been the name he’d forgotten at the barbecue, it’d been the whole reason for the introduction. His neighbor. His neighbor with the long, dark hair, and the excited eyes, and that grin-inducing laugh.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Wonderful!” As Damien began to leave, Hugo called out to him once more.

“Damien?”

He turned, his head cocked inquisitively. Hugo cleared his throat. “Lucien wasn’t in class to receive the homework. I thought I should pass it on to you.”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Damien whipped his phone out, ready to take notes.

“With the thematic elements of Victorian poetry in mind, finish Charlotte Bronte’s incomplete poem ‘The House Was Still – The Room Was Still’. More than just one or two words, please.”

Damien’s eyes sparkled with delight. “What a charming assignment.” He mused, pocketing his phone. “I must confess, I don’t believe I remember how that one goes.”

“ _The house was still – the room was still,”_ Hugo began. __  
“Twas eventide in June  
          A caged canary to the sun  
              Then setting – trilled a tune.  
                  A free bird on that lilac bush  
                      Outside the lattice heard  
                         He listened long – there came a hush  
                             He dropped an answering word –  
                                  The prisoner to the free replied _–_ _”_  


##  _BZZT!_

Both men startled as Hugo’s phone buzzed in his desk – the noise amplified by the jar of paperclips he’d thrown it on top of. Perhaps it was for the best. Hugo hadn’t realized how very, _very_ close they had been to each other.

“I’m uh…I’m sorry. My husband.” Hugo mumbled, running around to retrieve his phone.

Damien turned an absolutely vivid shade of scarlet. “Oh! You must…extend him my invitation to tea as well, then.” He turned on his heel quite quickly. “You have my sincere gratitude for your interest in my son’s well-being. Thank you, Hugo.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll…see you for tea.” Hugo finished weakly, giving a little wave. Damien nodded his head. Smiling once more, he closed the door behind him.

Hugo checked his phone.

**why aren’t u home yet?**

**Conference.  
           Leaving work now.**

With a heavy sigh, Hugo picked up his keys and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** I don't know if it's ever explicitly stated how Hugo and Damien met, but I'd like to think this was it! Also who knows if that was ACTUALLY the homework. Lucien probably got to school the next day and was so confused as to why all the other kids had a different assignment, lol.  
> ** Fun fact: I didn't just pull the name Winebiddle out of a generator - it's a street near where I live!
> 
> If you like my work, consider [buying me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/dgwritesfic) or follow me [on tumblr](http://dog-loving-goth.tumblr.com/) and say hi!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. The House Was Still

Ever since Hugo and his husband had moved into the little cul-de-sac, Hugo had admired the pretty little colonial home that was now the Bloodmarch residence. Brian had once confided that it had been here all by its lonesome for some time; that the neighborhood had simply grown up around it. With its perfect symmetry and lovely Georgian trim, it was easily the oldest house on the street. Damien and his son were the perfect residents. It may have been a little weather-worn in some places, but with a new coat of paint and a few repairs to the shingles, cosmetically it could look good as new!

Now, as Hugo caught himself glancing at it, that distant memory of an invite to afternoon tea resurfaced. He waved it off as he had done weeks before, and most likely would continue to do each time he glimpsed Damien’s house.

Not Damien himself, though.   
Lately, the man had scarcely been around.

Even the house itself seemed strangely vacant. But Hugo tried not to dwell too much on it. It was highly unlikely that one semi-awkward parent-teacher conference would have made Damien decide to move away.

And today was no different.

The house stood in the early morning emptiness, dark and silent. Hugo watched it for a few moments more as he retrieved his newspaper from his lawn.

He strode across the dewy grass with warm bare feet, still clad in sleep’s mismatched clothes of gray sweatpants and loud, orange checkered shirt, when a flicker of light caught his eye. The right upper window of the Bloodmarch residence glowed dimly with light for exactly five puzzling seconds before Damien appeared at the window, candelabra in hand.

A look of surprise crossed Damien’s face. Then, with a smile, he waved.

Hugo’s cheeks pinked.

He realized what he was wearing.

He realized what time it was.

He realized how this must have looked.

Still, he offered up a jovial wave hello in return, before snatching up his newspaper and scuttling back inside.

Safely behind a closed front door, Hugo let out a sigh. His wet feet _shuff-shuffed_ on plush beige carpet as he padded to the kitchen, laying the paper on a small table - its loud, colorful headline and picture of the fairgrounds a stark contrast to the quiet of the house.  

The coffee pot hummed as pre-timed settings flicked it on. Hard plastic plates clinked softly against a similarly made bowl. Like a rusty music box, the small kitchen slowly came to life with sounds and smells of morning. Hugo had almost finished setting the small eat-in table for three when his husband came clamoring through like a whirlwind.

A peck on the cheek

_thank-you love-you god you didn’t go out like that I hope –_

                                                                                                             a stolen piece of toast

                                                                                                                            _– have a good day!_

                                                                                                                                                          and the slam of the front door.

The bacon crackled on the stove. Hugo stood, fork still in hand to be placed. He turned, looking out the small kitchen window towards the colonial style house next door. He thought about tea.

Hot food slid onto plates, and Hugo’s voice called _“BREAKFAST!”_ down the hall. The swiftness at which his son’s thudding feet hit the floor, made him momentarily forget everything that had happened. Ernest comically skidded into the room, and Hugo couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Watch it, there hot foot.”

“What? I’m hungry!” Ernest slid into his chair and began eating in one fluid motion. “I like your cooking. You should be so grateful.”

Hugo scoffed quietly, ruffling Ernest’s hair. “Don’t leave the house without brushing this mop. I know the slept-in look is all the rage but-“

“Yeah, yeah, Dad.” With faint, fond smile, Ernest swatted Hugo’s hand away.

They both turned to look at the empty place between them. Ernest wilted a little. “Did Pops not wanna eat with us…or…”

“No. No, he did.” Hugo quickly reassured his son. “You know, he told me just this morning how proud he was of you? You’ve been getting good grades, doing all your chores without us asking you to – ”

“Basically being the best kid ever.” Ernest interrupted, searching for his accolade.

“Some might argue that. Anyway, he thought you deserved a treat. The fair’s in town so this weekend-“

“YES. COTTON CANDY TIL I BARF.” Ernest served himself more bacon. “Bet I can beat you in skee-ball too!”

“Not on your life.” Hugo grinned.

Later, after he’d dressed, as he cleaned up the breakfast dishes, his eyes caught sight of Damien’s house once more. Only this time the front door was open, and a power company truck was now parked on the street. Hugo switched the faucet off.

“Ernest, I’ll be right back!”

Damien was standing on his front porch, dressed down a little from his usual attire. He smiled as Hugo jogged up to him.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning! Looks like yours is going to be a busy one, too.” Hugo commented, gesturing to the truck.

Damien sighed. “It seems as though the electrics have not been updated in a great while. Lucien and I have been without power for the last two days.”

Hugo’s eyes widened. “Wh…but…I…I had no idea!” he stammered out. “Do you need anything? You’re always welcome to dinner – ”

“It is quite all right, Hugo. I own quite an impressive collection of candles if I may say so. And in regards to food, Lucien and I have been taking this opportunity to dine out at vegetarian establishments we had already wanted to try.” Damien heaved another long sigh. He stared up at his home. His hand traced a chipped, painted column. “I was hoping not to begin renovation so soon, but I am afraid that may have to happen.”

“Well, if anyone can restore this house to her former glory, it’s you.” Hugo patted the column on the other side.

Damien blinked for a moment. His hand to his mouth, he chuckled softly. “Forgive me. I believe I have given you the wrong impression, Hugo. I do not mean to restore this home, but to renovate it to one more suited to my Victorian era tastes.” Damien smiled. “It will hardly resemble its current state if all goes well.”

There were a lot of things Hugo could have said, but he said none of them –

_“Oh.”_

 – except that one.

They stood in awkward silence, unsure how to proceed. A quiet conflict had unintentionally slipped between this budding friendship, and it seemed impossible to sidestep.

Hugo cleared his throat. “I…uh…I’m sorry about your house. I suppose you’ll have to move all your furniture out to…knock some walls down, huh?”

Damien nodded sadly. “Yes, and I had already arranged everything precisely how I wanted it. I suppose I should phone the movers –”

“No, don’t.” Realizing how abrupt and rude that had seemed, Hugo cleared his throat again. “I mean, you can if you want to. But, I could help. Brian could too, I’ll bet. We could pitch in so – ”

“I couldn’t possibly – ”

“We’re neighbors.” Hugo insisted. “You help your neighbors out when they’re in need.”

Relief brightened on Damien’s face. Leaning down over the porch railing, he grabbed Hugo’s hands and gave them a grateful squeeze. “I confess, I do not know how I will ever repay your kindness.”

Hugo chuckled, praying desperately that the hot flush he felt in his cheeks did not show. “It’s nothing, really. I’m sure you’d do the same for my family too.” He stole a glance back over towards his house. “I should get going. Kids to teach and all that.” His gaze turned back to Damien as he pulled his hands away. “But I’ll be here after school to help.”

“You have my utmost gratitude, Hugo. Perhaps you would still take my invitation to tea when I am able to host you?”

“Absolutely.”

Hugo gave him a little wave as he turned to walk back to his house. He stopped short, feeling a penetrating gaze from behind him. Turning around, he spotted Mary across the street in the front yard. She stood by her car, watching him, scrutinizing him, and Hugo wondered precisely what it was he had done to deserve such a look.

“Good morning, Mary.” He called out anyway.

She nodded her head in acknowledgement, but said no more.

With a shrug, Hugo went back inside – back to thinking about tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **guess this is gonna be a long running fic now! whoops!   
> **there are three main types of homes built in the massachusettes area: cape cod, colonial, and ranch (doesn't mean there aren't other kinds though, but these are the most common). a colonial, particularly a pre-war colonial, would have the right sort of bones to give Damien the idea to reno. also its funny cause pre-war colonials are in a georgian style...a specific reaction and revolt against the excesses of victorian age housing trends so guess who has the last laugh now???  
> **did y'all ever think you'd learn so much about architecture today? guess what. you did. and you did good. i'm proud.  
> **a happy Ernest makes for a great gut punch when you think about how angry he is in game! enjoy those feelings!
> 
>  
> 
> If you like my work, consider [buying me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/dgwritesfic) or follow me [on tumblr](http://dog-loving-goth.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


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